


Silence is Golden

by Senshibyne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Mute - Freeform, Scent Marking, Surgery, Voice Loss, appreciation shown through physical touch, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senshibyne/pseuds/Senshibyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently talking too much was actually damaging. Who knew.</p><p>Also known as the fic where Stiles can't be trusted to keep his trap shut after surgery, requiring the need of a watch dog. No pun intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence is Golden

**Author's Note:**

> Set end of season 2, since Jackson is a werewolf, but it's AUish since no one is dead nor has anyone left.
> 
> Written with a prompt for a friend as a secret Santa fic, hope you enjoy!

It hadn’t started as anything to worry about, really. Okay, correction. It hadn’t started out as anything that _Stiles_ worried about. But after two weeks of an almost constant sore throat that had resulted in him whispering whenever he was forced to talk, the pack had begun to worry.

They displayed this worry by forcing Stiles to go see a doctor. Which was totally unnecessary and way over the top, in Stiles’ opinion, regardless of the fact that the doctor’s eventual diagnosis was ‘vocal cord polyps’. When Stiles informed the pack that polyps are caused by ‘screaming, yelling, or just plain talking too much’ (the doctor’s exact words. What was he trying to imply?), it took them ten full minutes of solid howling laughter before they settled down.

Their reaction to the news that he’d need surgery, however, was completely different.

“What do you mean surge-” _Erica._

“Hold on a sec-” _Isaac._

“No one cares, Stilinsk-” _Jackson._

“Stiles wha-” _Scott._

“Everyone. SHUT. UP.” _Derek._

Derek turned to face Stiles, his eyebrows seeming to say ‘get on with the explanation before I rip your throat out, with my teeth.’

The full story ended up being a whole lot easier to write out then actually tell, so Stiles spent the next few minutes typing out the whole ordeal.

_I need to take reflux medication for the next week before the surgery, and for up to three months after it as well. Also I can’t speak at all for about 2 weeks after the surgery and I need a voice therapist after that til about 4 weeks in. I need to be careful with it for up to 6 months as well._

Lydia was the first one to get her voice back after that.

“How exactly are _you_ meant to not talk for two weeks? Over talking is what you do, that’s how you got in this situation.”

Stiles shot her a foul look, to which her only response was a careless shrug. He hadn’t actually thought about that. He _had_ gotten into this mess by talking too damn much, how was he meant to _not_?

“You’ll need a monitor, to make sure you keep your mouth shut. Your dad won’t do, he’s working. Scott is definitely out. You two would start talking the moment he arrived at your door.”

Stile deflated as he realised the truth of her words. He and Scott together while he was recovering would ruin his voice completely.

“Plus he has school, like the rest of us.”

Stiles turned his head toward Derek, realising that he was the only one that could do it.

“Would you be up for watching me be completely silent for two weeks, Sourwolf?” He croaked out, raising an eyebrow.

His only response was a glare and a stiff nod. This was gonna be a fun, silent few weeks.

***

The week before the surgery consisted of Stiles being continuously nagged by every member of the pack – minus Jackson and Derek – as well as his father to remember to take his reflux meds. They weren’t particularly enjoyable, but then again medication rarely was. It wasn’t that he purposefully avoided them. He just tended to... conveniently forget about them.

The surgery itself wasn’t particularly risky, nor was it very long. After a few hours in recovery, Stiles was free to go home. The sedative hadn’t fully worn off yet though, so when Stiles walked in to his room and saw the large shadow reclining on his bed, he didn’t react particularly strongly. All he did was continue to blink slowly in that direction before recognising Derek’s general brooding frame, and then proceeded to flop down next to him, face first.

Derek slowly flipped the page of the book he was reading, shooting a glance at him. Stiles lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a wave, before dropping it back down on the bed next to him.

“Erica and Lydia have informed me that my ‘duties’ have extended to making sure you take your meds, as well.” Derek murmured, turning another page.

Stiles huffed out a breath, throat hurting too much for even a hum, not that he was allowed to do that for two weeks anyway.

 “Go to sleep Stiles.” Derek replied, turning another page.

As Stiles drifted off, he wondered if Derek was actually reading in the dark room, if werewolf sight was that good... need to... ask...

***

The first few days were hard. Like, really hard. Stiles wasn’t sure what was the worst part; the slight pain from the surgery, the inability to communicate in his usual manner, or the fact that Derek never left his side in order to make sure he never communicated in his usual manner.

His dad didn’t seem particularly bothered by the hulking mass of werewolf that had been following Stiles around, but then again the Sheriff and Derek had gone through some sort of bonding thing when he found out about the whole supernatural... thing.

It was a little off putting the first day when Stiles woke up, alone, only to find his dad and Derek having some sort of discussion over breakfast. When he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, Derek practically materialised in front of him, slapped a hand over his mouth and glared.

The Sheriff just laughed at the table, before saying, “This is going to be a very interesting, and blessedly quiet, two weeks.”

Stiles’ only response was to walk around Derek and remove the bacon from his fathers’ plate.

After that first morning, they mellowed out into a sort of routine. Stiles would wake up, go downstairs to cook breakfast only to find Derek already doing so. He would then flop down on the chair closest to him, tap his finger on the table twice in a form of greeting, then lean back and wait for his father to come down.

They would eat in mostly silence, since Derek wasn’t much of a talker, and the Sheriff was busy trying to sneak as many pieces of bacon from his plate to his mouth as he could before Stiles noticed.

Once they had all finished, the Sheriff left for work while Stiles and Derek cleaned up. Then Derek would move to the lounge where he would read, Stiles would run upstairs to grab his laptop, then return to the lounge – under threat of disembowelment from Derek.

They would spend the next few hours in dead silence, which took the better part of the first week for Stiles to get comfortable with. The number of times he nearly slipped up within the first day probably outnumbered the number of hair follicles on Derek’s very handsome face.

Derek seemed to know exactly when Stiles had found something interesting that he wanted to share or ask about, because a split second before he would open his mouth to try and talk, Derek’s hand would already be there, covering it.

They eventually developed a system. Stiles would type up what he wanted to say – his typing skills improved immensely, not that they weren’t pretty impressive before – and Derek would answer, if he felt so inclined. Stiles of course kept this document saved, including the questions Derek hadn’t answered. He could always try them out again later.

***

By the time the second week came around, Stiles was feeling a tiny bit bad for making Derek waste his free time babysitting him only because he couldn’t be trusted to keep his big mouth shut.

To show his gratitude, non-verbally, he’d done some research on how wolf pack members interact. Just because he wanted to thank Derek without actually writing it down somewhere where it could later be used by Jackson or someone else as a means to mock him. That was so totally the reason. Yes, totally.

What he found in his research lead to him touching Derek. A lot. He started out slow, so that Derek ‘I’m the Alpha, I don’t need puppy piles’ Hale wouldn’t freak out and leave before Stiles got out his appreciation.

It started with shoulder nudges while washing the breakfast dishes. Stiles would gently nudge Derek’s shoulder in such a way that it could so totally be an accident. Except not when it happened six times total that first day.

Derek caught on about the third time it happened, so he started nudging back, just a bit. Or had Stiles imagined that part? He probably had. Derek doesn’t _nudge_. Right?

He decided to test this theory by stepping it up a bit the next day. He added a few gentle hip checks to his shoulder nudging, scattered throughout the day. The first time he did it, Derek’s only response was to raise an eyebrow. By the third time, he had progressed to tight lipped, half smiles, the type people use when they’re actually trying really hard not to smile.

At least Stiles knew that Derek was picking up what he was putting down. So he kept putting it down. Along with the nudges and hip checks, he added a few – accidental – head flops. They really were accidental. Okay so the first one had been accidental.

They had been watching a movie after supper, and he had been tired. He only realised what he’d done when he felt the tension in Derek’s shoulder. After a few seconds of having his head resting on Derek’s shoulder without any sort of verbal or physical retort, he figured it would be fine to keep doing it, especially once Derek relaxed into it.

A few more days of this, and Derek had started to reciprocate the head-leaning. The first time he did it, Stiles had actually fallen asleep, only to wake up to Derek’s cheek pressing into his hair. He pretended he didn’t notice, if only to keep him there.

***

By the end of the first two weeks of utter silence, Derek’s full 24 hour presence was no longer needed. As long as Stiles didn’t talk too often or too loudly, he would be fine.

He woke up alone in his room on the first morning of week three. The silence that hadn’t bothered him much at all previously, suddenly seemed deafening. Instead of getting out of bed right away, he lay there, staring at the ceiling for a while, then rolled over in preparation of getting up.

His laptop was facing his bed on the bedside table, a word document open on the desktop. Frowning, Stiles slid over to the edge and started reading what was in the document, certain that he’d left his laptop downstairs last night.

He was sure his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline when he realised what he was reading. This was the document of questions he’d made to ask Derek. With all the unanswered questions now fully answered. Even the random ones about werewolf babies and how long it takes before they get their fangs.

Stiles flopped back down onto his pillow, the silence no longer felt as oppressive as it had before.

His first appointment with his speech therapist went well. He’d ended up only saying a few short sentences, most of which had come out hoarse and rather quiet as well. He was told not to worry too much about that, as his voice needed to warm up again after two weeks of no usage.

She advised him that for the first week, he shouldn’t talk for more than five minutes at a time, but that would increase to thirty minutes by the end of the second week, as long as he did nothing stupid.

Now that he was officially allowed to talk again, however limited it may be, the pack was hounding for a gathering, stating that they hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Scott and Allison were the main members advocating for the meeting, while Jackson and Boyd were both silent on the issue – for different reasons, admittedly.

So on the second day of being ‘officially off his talking ban’, Stiles found himself outside of Derek’s loft, arms linked with his two favourite pack members. The second the door opened, he was half pummelled to the floor by a very excited blonde.

“ You’ve been gone too long, Batman. It’s been boring without you.” She said while crushing his ribs to her chest.

“Missed you too, Catwoman.” Stiles breathed out, while vigorously tapping her shoulder to get her to let him go. When she got the message and relinquished her hold, the four of them made their way inside the loft.

Stiles was sure that pack meetings had never been so... loud... before. Or maybe it was just him, since he had spent the last two weeks in almost complete silent. He might have gotten used to it a bit. Only a really tiny amount though.

Another thing he had gotten used to, it seemed, was the reciprocal touching with Derek. He flopped down on the couch right next to him, not noticing the slight drop in noise level. After a few seconds, everyone got over the shock of seeing someone so close to Derek, brushing it off as having something to do with Derek watching over Stiles.

A few hours later, and this time Stiles definitely noticed the noise difference, mainly because there was no longer any noise. He opened his eyes from his position on Derek’s shoulder, looking around at his dead silent friends, trying not to move his head too much to keep Derek’s from moving.

“What?” he whispered, not wanting to be too loud in the eerily quite room. Lydia was the one who answered him.

“You do know what that means, right Stiles?”

“What what means? You’re creepy silent staring? Because no, I don’t, but I’d really like to be informed. Also ow, no more talking.”

Lydia sighed, then glided back on her chair, waving at the room in general, indicating that she was done with this conversation and that someone else should tell Stiles what she meant. Erica seemed the one most eager to take up that task.

The reason Derek hadn’t intervened by this point, Stiles would never know. He did have his suspicions though. Like that Derek wanted to make sure that he understood the importance of this thing, without actually asking himself, the big scaredy wolf.

“You’re leaning your head on an _Alpha’s_ shoulder. But more than that, _he’s leaning back_.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow in question, waving his hand in an _aaand? Go on_ gesture.

“Do you have any idea what the significance of that is? That’s not just normal scent marking, that’s _mate marking._ ”

Stiles had felt Derek shift under him after a few seconds of silence, before he replied to Erica’s statement.

“Yes, I know. Was there a point you were trying to make there or...?” he trailed off, eyes flickering from one person to another. Derek huffed out a chuckle next to him, before relaxing further into Stiles’ side.

“ I thought you were just thanking me for looking out for you...wasn’t sure if you knew the meaning behind it or not.”

Stiles sighed before pulling out his phone. There was no way he was saying all this out loud right now, he felt like his throat would rip in half.

‘It started out as thanking you, yeah, but I did my research, Sourwolf. I knew what I was doing every step of the way.’

“You. Are a menace to society.”

Stiles turned his head to face Derek before replying: “ Yip, but you love me anyway.”

Derek’s response was soft, trying to make the moment between just the two of them, as much as possible in a room full of werewolves.

“Yeah, I do.”

His lips were just as soft as his voice had been.


End file.
